


A House Is Not a Home

by immortalflowers



Series: amble out for love [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Chaste Kisses, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Hongjoong is convinced Seonghwa is stressed (tm) but it was him all along ohhh, M/M, Plot Twist, Seonghwa reads random wikipedia articles when he cant sleep hes an encyclopedia of random facts, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but also not really, but not really, more cute boyfriends being cute and sweet together, this should be a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23915587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalflowers/pseuds/immortalflowers
Summary: Hongjoong likes to think that his life isn't just a random collection of missed and taken chances, of moments passed and conquered. He likes to think there's an order to it, that something brought him to this place in life, because it's where he needs to be right now. Call it god, deity,kismet, the three Fates…or: Seonghwa and Hongjoong go on vacation. Hongjoong wishes they could stay here forever with how pretty the view is; the quaint little house and the endless sea at his back.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: amble out for love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696087
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	A House Is Not a Home

**Author's Note:**

> A fic in which I explain in detail how everything looks but offer no plot? Did you mean every fic I've ever written lol
> 
> Definitely was only planning to leave this as a cutesy one shot and now it's a series and I have two more scenes written and no control over my life!!!!! also, you don't have to actually read the previous part it's just more seongjoong fluff, though you can,,, if you want to.. This might turn into two more short seongjoong fics or some other ships in the same au we shall see
> 
> Anyway, there's more seongjoong on my profile if that's something you crave (also some yungi and woosan), so you can check that out.. if you want
> 
> Thank you for reading!! I encourage you to leave kudos and comments if you like it, they make me very happy <3

This is the end, isn’t it?

And you are here with me again, listening with me: the sea

no longer torments me; the self

I wished to be is the self I am.

(Louise Glück)

Hongjoong wakes up before dawn, a bitter taste in the back of his mouth and a leftover feeling of _something_ shifting in the air from his dream.

He dreamt of Seonghwa – he remembers that.

The rest of the dream is as muddled as his mind; the sea, the rain, a premonition of his life changing before his eyes and being unable to stop it.

He shudders, cold, and notices that Seonghwa is back from his shift at the hospital. He stole half the blanket, but instead of taking back his half, he just shuffles closer to Seonghwa’s side. His mouth is half open in sleep, his teeth sitting in two neat rows like graves on a hillside.

He lays his head on Seonghwa’s chest, a minimal effort on his side, with slight transfer of weight and position, and grumbling and huffing in his sleep on Seonghwa’s. They fall asleep like that, snug as two birds trapped in a cage.

Hongjoong wakes up (again) at some ungodly hour to Seonghwa turning the lights on. “What’re you doing?” He croaks out. He sounds like he drank a whole cup of citric acid last night, when in reality he was recording the last of demos for the new album he’s working on.

“It’s 5 a.m.” Seonghwa answers, as if that’s supposed to mean something to Hongjoong. The sky outside the half-closed blinds is still indigo, a random car passes by in the time Hongjoong is trying to understand why they’re awake.

“And?”

“ _And_ we have to load the car, _and_ you have to finish packing, _and_ we should have just enough time leftover for breakfast,” Seonghwa stops. “Or coffee in your case.” 

Hongjoong groans, loud and drawn out. “I hate that I had to finish the fucking demos last night. We could’ve been there already!” He grumbles more to himself, but to Seonghwa it’s only white noise.

“Yeah, well, I think we’re lucky old lady Mira didn’t charge us more for missing the check-in time,” Seonghwa shrugs, bending down to leave a chaste kiss on Hongjoong’s forehead. 

“Get out of bed, Hongjoong.” With that, Seonghwa slinks away from the room, and a few minutes later Hongjoong hears the water in the electric kettle boiling.

He falls asleep.

Hongjoong is awoken for the third time in the same day by Seonghwa sprawling over much of Hongjoong’s upper body. He wasn’t really asleep, either. He was in that dream-like state; a limbo in the middle of the world of wakefulness and world of sleep.

That feeling that overcame him after the dream, takes hold in the soles of his feet once again, and Hongjoong knows he’ll have to carry it for at least the rest of the day, if not the rest of the trip.

Seonghwa sighs, put upon. “I loaded the car, I packed your bag, I made you coffee - aren’t I the perfect boyfriend?”

Hongjoong’s heart swells with love in his chest. He wants to hold onto Seonghwa forever, he never wants to let him go. Even if they surgically sewed their hands together, Hongjoong wouldn’t mind it. The love he feels for Seonghwa is filling out every crevice of his soul, spilling into his dreams, because the soul can’t hold his entire essence. 

“Did I ask you to do that? You should’ve woken me up,” Hongjoong complains instead.

Seonghwa pouts at him - his large puppy dog eyes and full lips an arsenal of adoration and happiness against Hongjoong. If they were to wage war against each other, Hongjoong would be wounded by love and time, and Seonghwa by love and broken promises. As it is, they try not to fight at all.

“‘m sorry,” Hongjoong mumbles, pressing his nose into Seonghwa’s freshly washed hair. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t,” Seonghwa smiles, looking up at him. “You’re just mean sometimes for no reason.” They laugh at his childish words, but neither makes an attempt to leave the bed.

“Nothing can be done about your early morning crankiness, I suppose,” Seonghwa says. “Really get up now if you want to have that coffee at home.”

He looks at the time on his phone as Seonghwa unglues his body from Hongjoong’s – it’s a quarter to six – and if they leave at six o’clock sharp they’ll arrive at the airbnb just after eleven. 

Hongjoong drags himself out of bed, goes to check the soil in every flowerpot they have in their bedroom - trying the wetness with his index finger. He frowns at the periwinkle orchid on the table; one of the flowers is withering, when the other day they were all fine. He’ll have to move it somewhere sunnier once they return.

Seonghwa is coming back to their bedroom with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands when Hongjoong is caught red handed, finger poking at the desert rose succulent in his office.

“You didn’t even get dressed, and we’ll literally be away for only two days. Hongjoong, I’m losing my mind here,” Seonghwa says, exasperated, handing him the mug of instant coffee. In a similar fashion Hongjoong knows how Seonghwa likes his tea, the coffee is half water, half milk and a heaping teaspoon of sugar.

“I’ll wait for you in the car,” he says, passing Hongjoong with his jacket retrieved from their bedroom, and sighing deeply in irritation.

As a rule, they both try to be as accommodating as they can to special demands of their jobs and home lives. And since Hongjoong mostly works from home, Seonghwa has to tip-toe around him more times than not. 

Most of their house shows little whims of Hongjoong’s imagination.

When they moved into their current home, Seonghwa helped him sound-proof the children’s room that Hongjoong now uses as an office. The garden, while they both tend to it, was also Hongjoong’s idea.

There aren’t many things Seonghwa wouldn’t indulge him – that’s why this trip is such a big deal, and having it start on a flimsy note just doesn’t sit right with Hongjoong.

He notices Seonghwa left his toiletries on the washing machine, brushes his teeth quickly and washes his face, moisturizing as he locks the door behind himself, leaving their house and plants in perpetual darkness for the foreseeable future.

Seonghwa is scrolling through his phone once Hongjoong slams the door of their cherry red compact. He throws his toiletries bag and jacket on the back seat.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t start making excuses. “I don’t know what’s got into me.” He wants to bow his head, like he’s waiting for his parents’ rebuke.

“I know you’re tired, but so am I. I thought this trip was supposed to be a way for us to relax,” Seonghwa says, both hands on the steering wheel, his fingers twitching to turn the keys that are already in the ignition. “I don’t want us to fight over dumb shit,” Seonghwa says gazing at Hongjoong.

“Me neither,” he inclines his head to look into Seonghwa’s eyes hidden under his bangs. Seonghwa’s eyes crinkle up with a smile, which makes Hongjoong break into one as well.

“Come here,” Seonghwa says pulling on Hongjoong’s bleached white hair. It’s gotten long now, longer than he usually wears it, so he’s put it up in a ponytail. Seonghwa pulls on a wayward lock of hair that’s escaped the tight grip of the hairband.

They kiss over the gear shift, a wet smack of mouth against mouth; Seonghwa’s tongue laving a path over the inside of his lower lip.

“You don’t taste like coffee,” Seonghwa says in confusion. 

“No, I didn’t want you to wait for me any longer.”

“That just means we’ll have to stop to buy you some on the way, doesn’t it?” Seonghwa laughs, no longer miffed. The fingers of hurt that grabbed Hongjoong earlier let up a little.

“Maybe,” Hongjoong laughs along, and Seonghwa starts the car.

He was placed in Seonghwa's life so long ago for a reason, and they're arguing over which sandwiches to buy at the gas station for a reason, as well.

"I just don't see why I need your input if I'm the one who's gonna eat it," Hongjoong says.

"I'm telling you, you're going to regret it and feed it to the first dog we see," Seonghwa argues.

"Oh my god," Hongjoong moans, making a fuss and stomping his feet like a displeased child. "I'm giving mustard a second chance. I think it deserves to be tried again."

Seonghwa just huffs and turns on his heel, placing his bland looking whole bread bun filled with a sad excuse for meat and some greens with the sweetest coffee he could find in the cooler on the cashier’s desk, a bored clerk ringing it all up.

Seonghwa smiles in (what Hongjoong hopes is) adoration when he brings his mustard sandwich and another coffee for himself to the front.

“Do you want me to drive?” Hongjoong asks, his shoe-less legs stretched over the gear shift, his feet in Seonghwa’s lap.

Seonghwa looks up from his sandwich and the news article he’s scrolling through on his phone. “No, you can drive us back, though. How’s the sandwich?” He inclines his head at the half eaten sandwich in Hongjoong’s hands.

Hongjoong takes a bite and tries not to make a face at the bitter taste of mustard and stale bread, when Seonghwa pushes his legs away, and they resume their drive.

They've been driving for three hours now, and have two more to reach the little seaside town where they've booked an airbnb.

The drive so far has been uneventful, but Hongjoong feels a rush go through him at the first sight of stony builders next to the road, covered by thick iron netting. The glimpses of sea he’s caught as they’ve neared coast on the curvy roads have so far left him breathless, in a state of amazement he hasn’t felt since he was a child.

"I'm so excited," Hongjoong says, almost vibrating in the passenger seat, his feet up on the dashboard like a rebellious teenager. He looks at Seonghwa, but he can't discern his facial expression under the Ray Bans he's wearing. 

Seonghwa laughs and it’s like holographic pearls falling from a broken necklace. The window on his side is open, his hair ruffled and messy. If Hongjoong ever needed a reminder of Seonghwa’s beauty, this is the picture that would come to mind.

“I’m excited, too,” Seonghwa deems it fitting to remind him, as if Hongjoong forgot this whole thing was his idea. He turns to smile at Hongjoong, and Hongjoong intertwines their fingers on the gear shift, squeezing.

Hongjoong falls asleep to the sound of Seonghwa singing along to the radio, their hands clasped tightly together.

Seonghwa wakes him up already parked in the driveway of the little house they'll be staying in for the rest of the weekend.

"Seonghwa," Hongjoong stops him from leaving the car. "We didn't get the keys from the landlady," his voice sounds croaky and he's dazed and groggy, looking at Seonghwa through sleep addled eyes.

"I already took them. You slept like a log for the last two hours, I didn't want to wake you up," Seonghwa says, shooting him a small smile.

Hongjoong hears him open and close the trunk, sees him carrying their bags through the car window as if through a veil.

He leaves the car, and takes the bags from Seonghwa's hands while he fishes around his pocket in search of the keys, and unlocks the door on his second try.

It looks like a _real_ Mediterranean house, and not like the American neo-Mediterranean style ones – the outside walls curved and smooth white, red terra cotta roof, and small windows with green shutters complete the homey look. The midday sun making to colours sharper, more pronounced, like the saturation of a picture turned all the way up.

It’s on a hill overlooking the ocean, and while the other ones down the road are packed close together, theirs is sequestered by a forest of cluster pines on one side, and a stretch of barren land on the other.

He wishes they could stay there forever with how pretty the view is; the quaint little house and the endless sea at his back.

The inside of the house is very obviously old but clean, and it has, what Seonghwa would call, _character_ and an amazing view of the beach and sea through the large window behind the kitchen counter. 

It consists of only four rooms – an old fashioned bathroom that was popular in the 90s with a big corner bathtub in shades of salmon, a bedroom that's mostly just a double bed and a brown wooden wardrobe, an ornate vase filled with dried lavender on top of it. There's also the living slash dining room slash kitchen that's crammed into a space roughly the same size as what could be considered their bedroom at home.

It’s tiny, not much smaller then their house back home - but it’s good enough for the two of them.

After Seonghwa has unpacked and carefully put away every article of clothing they brought with them, and Hongjoong has complained enough that Seonghwa had to throw a pillow at him several times to shut him up, they decide to take a walk around the town.

They follow the curved roads down to the coast, the smell of pine fresh and striking in its intensity. The sky overhead is slowly getting swallowed by cumulonimbus clouds, promising a heavy wash and a loud thunderstorm later in the night.

The cobbled streets once they reach the centre, are so polished Hongjoong has to hold onto Seonghwa so he doesn’t lose his balance in the slippers he’s wearing.

The smell of salt water mixes with the smell of fresh fish on the market they’re passing by; it’s so strong he has to actively remind himself not to pinch his nose with his fingers. It’s not bad – he’s just not used to it. 

It’s almost overwhelming, how much it reminds him of sweltering summers, sitting at his tiny washed out yellow table and matching chairs, the fishing rod plunged into the river, and his father teaching him how to put a slimy worm onto the hook. Puncturing its body caked with black soil still sits wrong in Hongjoong’s chest.

They still haven’t seen the sea up close, deciding to rather pass the whole peninsula to reach it last.

“We should go see the cathedral,” Seonghwa says, pulling Hongjoong along, and deeper into the center, down down down the streets of Old Town.

“How do you even know where we’re going?” Hongjoong clenches his fingers around Seonghwa’s when he feels his leg slipping on the stone, and almost crashes them both to the floor. “All the streets look the same to me.”

“No, look,” Seonghwa points at one of the nondescript stone houses on the corner of the street. “We’ve passed here when we were coming up, and there was a sign showing the church is down one of the alleyways.”

“If you say so,” Hongjoong frowns.

They picked a good time of the year to visit. Well, _pick_ is a bit of an exaggeration, since their schedules never really match when normal peoples’ do and they have to go on vacation at random times of the year, but it’s good for sightseeing. Beginning of April is still too cold for swimming in the ocean, but at least the nature is more agreeable - all flourishing and blooming flowers and trees.

They pass through one the alleys covered in pink and purple lilac, the scent so cloying, it makes Seonghwa sneeze, bringing both their hands to cover his mouth, but Hongjoong pulls his away at the last second and shoots him a disgusted look.

All the little streets are just that - little. Hongjoong and Seonghwa can barely pass through them walking next to each other, their shoulders brushing. Hongjoong almost doesn’t even have to extend his hand to pick one of the flowers, what with it reaching their heads. He pulls one of the clusters of flowers off and puts it behind his ear, Seonghwa smiles at him in endearment.

He knows this whole trip was Seonghwa's idea and that Seonghwa's the one who should be getting calmer, getting some rest - picking up his weary bones, stringing them into a necklace, and leaving them outside in the pale early April sun to dangle and chime in the wind - but he can't help but feel more relaxed than he had in months. And while that isn’t a crime, he’s sorry Seonghwa can’t feel the same. Or doesn’t, not yet.

The simple intimacy of walking these deserted streets of a town empty of tourists, full with flowers in fresh bloom and the sound of sea in the distance fills Hongjoong with calm. He hasn't thought once of the bridge in one of the songs that's been giving him trouble since he started working on it, or all the deadlines nearing their claws to grab at his throat. 

He supposes this is how you live in a moment, and he'd like thousands more years in this exact one just to relish in it and drink it in.

"Oh," Seonghwa says once they reach tall doors that have been painted a police box blue, sounding disappointed. "It's closed until June, except for Sunday mass."

"At least we were able to look at it from the outside. It's very… Mediterranean," Hongjoong says from what he can see of the building through the iron web gouged into the door.

"Yes, it's actually one of the best representations of Byzantine architecture in the area," Seonghwa bristles with knowledge.

"Have you been reading random Wikipedia articles again?" Hongjoong asks in what he wants to be a chiding voice, but it's the one reserved for when Seonghwa has done something unexpected but awe worthy, and Hongjoong can't help but let it creep a bit into his words.

"I couldn't sleep last night," Seonghwa admits in a soft voice. "I was reading up on the town to give you some last minute tour guide facts," he jokes.

"Are you okay, though?" Hongjoong frowns. "Is something still bothering you? I know we promised we wouldn't talk about work while we're here, but you can tell me anything, unless you're legally not allowed to or whatever."

Seonghwa laughs, and pulls Hongjoong along in a direction that will surely lead them to a place Seonghwa has previously outlined in his mind's tour. "No, I got, like, a solid six and a half hours of sleep. I slept in the hospital too, don't worry."

Hongjoong decides to let it go for the time being, despite knowing that something else is bothering Seonghwa, but Hongjoong won’t push until he’s ready to talk about it.

Once they reach the concrete coast, Hongjoong lowers himself to sit at its edge, his feet nowhere near touching the deep indigo water, but the thought of falling still scares him. The angry clouds in the distance make the ocean seem never-ending, connected to the sky by a thin thread of sunlight.

“It’s beautiful,” Seonghwa says, settling next to Hongjoong and lighting a cigarette. Hongjoong bites his tongue, but only because the revealing shirt Seonghwa is wearing makes him look hot enough that throwing himself down into the water to cool off suddenly seems like the best idea he’s had in the past few weeks.

“It is,” Hongjoong agrees, watching the smoke from Seonghwa’s mouth curl up and disappear into nothing. “I’m glad we came.”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa says, reaching for Hongjoong’s neck with the hand not holding the cigarette. He kisses him chastely, like he can’t express his emotions in words, and that’s half of the truth – Hongjoong was always better with words between the two of them, but what Seonghwa couldn’t express in words, he expressed with gentle touches and well thought out presents.

Seonghwa leans his head on Hongjoong’s bony shoulder. “You keep asking me why I’m stressed, and I’ve been waiting for you to catch on that _you_ are.”

Hongjoong dislodges his head to pull back and look at him, Seonghwa laughs at him through smoke and water. “I’m serious, you snap at me when something’s bothering you. If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I’d be offended with your thick skull.”

 _Oh_. The last puzzle piece falls into place.

“Shit, I guess you’re right,” Hongjoong laughs incredulously. “I keep thinking how well I’m doing not thinking about all the deadlines and what’s bothering me, when all the while I’ve been procrastinating on _thinking_ about it.” He scratches his head making his already messy hair even messier, Seonghwa settling back at his side, his head in the crook of Hongjoong’s neck.

He watches Seonghwa turn the cigarette out on the concrete next to him and place the butt next to the pack to throw it away later.

How funny life is, he only has Seonghwa and a handful of friends under this burnished orange darkening sky, and he's still happy. The sun goes to sleep and takes Hongjoong’s troubles with it – he’ll think about his problems later.

“I promise I’ll leave stressing about work for next week. I’m determined we enjoy these few days we have together, okay?” He says into the rapidly cooling air.

“Okay,” Seonghwa says softly, an exhalation of bitter cigarette breath into Hongjoong’s skin.

He takes Seonghwa’s hand, the setting sun fragmented on his skin turning it into liquid gold.

He’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yoongsicle)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/immortalflowers)


End file.
